Pulling Touch

You are a butterfly and my eyes are needles

The cold has your breast and my hand is on fire

You resting and reposing

My veins are pulsing

And nothing can cure me, but your pulling touch

I'll stretch you out, and lay alongside you

Run my hands along, devour and divide you.

In the cool of the night, under a rain-pelted roof

Beneath cotton white linen, our love is spilt

You are a cup that I hold by the cheekbones,

I pull you close and I drink you up.

I'll stretch you out, and lay alongside you

Run my hands along, devour and divide you.